As a passionate GAA follower the month of September was bittersweet. It prompted feelings of nostalgia that yet another year of sport was coming to a close but coming from a Mayo background it was a time of heightened excitement. In the week before the match it seemed my efforts to locate a ticket would be come to nothing and I decided to focus my energy elsewhere.
Inspired by RTÉ’s emotive promo for the All Ireland Hurling Final at the start of the month I took pen to paper and tried to write a poem that would capture the build-up to football’s big day, particularly from a Mayo perspective. As it happened, I was lucky enough to get a ticket just 40 minutes before throw-in. It was my first All Ireland.
Little did I expect that not only would I get to the game that day but that the final result was to be a draw and that the hunt for the elusive golden tickets would begin again 77 minutes later! Midwest radio blares early from the kitchen
Mothers double checking the flags don't need stitching
Sitting in to read the morning paper and you remember
This is the third Sunday in September
Predictions and analysis between the aul lads in the pubs
'Could this be the year that we bury the Dubs?'
Nostalgia is plentiful and emotions are high
The flying doctor, the Yank, just touching down from the sky
From armchairs, bar stools and iPads abroad
All united for one great cause
Golden tickets gone to 82,000 plus
But not one to be seen on a supporters bus
More craic and ceol on the train from Castlebar
To travel to Australia wouldn't be too far
Priceless banter with neighbours, strangers and friends all the same
An army of Irish gathered for one almighty game
'We're in bits God knows how the lads are feeling'
RTE's coverage plays like an episode of 'Reeling'
The familiar fanfares and drums seeping from televisions
Time for one last prayer they make all right decisions
The final lines of Amhrán na bhFiann interrupted with cheers
In an hour and ten we could be devastated in tears
The battle begins, it's chaotic, its frantic
'Some of those kicks would travel the Atlantic'
A physical explosion between the GAA's elite
Settling back in after half-time with the tea and a treat
No change to the teams, 'there'll be a massive row yet'
Screaming at the forwards to 'rattle their net'
Dreaded memories flicker from this day in '13
When out of nowhere the umpire raises the flag of green
So hard to bear it's close, its almost over
They're coming again, 'take him out with a shoulder'
'It's not possible', 'forget it', most people muttered
But two up in the 68th minute and our hearts fluttered
All palms greasier than any chipper van
Just two minutes away from claiming Sam
No other venue around the globe
So filled with passion it's about to explode
Three sharp blows by Conor Lane
The fifteen collapse relieved and in pain
The Saw Doctors anthem ricochets around Croke Park
The Big Tree erupts more wild than Noah's ark
An ocean of red and green spilling over pints and out the doors
32 counties are deafened with roars
Oblivious children been thrown in the air
National history been made but they don't care
Our native Taoiseach repeating his Springsteen moves
No man more ecstatic to see Dublin lose
The electrified Hill is solemnly muted
True champions stand above the tunnel, it cannot be disputed
Cumann Luthcleas Gael respectfully addressed
Witnessing this you can't help but feel blessed
Like all the dreams and hopes raised over the years
A Ballintubber man lifts Sam by the ears
The field is littered in confetti and balloons
Mayo people choke back the tears like fumes
Heroes of the past like McDonald and Padden
Struggle to believe a truth hard to fathom
A victory lap begins that could go on for days
Whilst the boys in the box begin to analyse the plays
Newspaper printers heating up already
'Coppers tonight is going to be deadly'
The City West glowing in red and green
But this time round not a frown to be seen
The masters of failure by everyone's reckoning
But marching down Jones's road we heard Sam beckoning
Stephen Rochford came through like a dark knight
Finalising the torture of this exhausting fight
A battalion of soldiers marched from the barren west
Focused and fearless and conquered the best
In the past we've been robbed we've been cursed and we've cried
But for now dear friends all politics, theatrics and formalities aside...
Take a minute, step back, take it all in
Treasure this day because it's more than a win
It's a symbol of life, of faith and of hope
For those who pull through when others say you won't cope
To build on the rubble of the days that were rough
Bury the failures, take the beatings on the cuff
Today is our day and our time is nigh
Close your eyes, take a breath, breathe a sigh
What a time to be alive, the first in 65...
Do you fancy putting pen to paper? We are always on the look-out for stories - if you have a story or any suggestions related to your experiences please send us an email at studenthub@irishtimes.com.
